


The Water is Red, Like You

by prairiegrass



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 19:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14479659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiegrass/pseuds/prairiegrass
Summary: This is an emetophilia story. Read it if you want to.





	The Water is Red, Like You

Bream-Hall hosted an event. One of those swanky events, where glasses filled red and white and tuxedos were appropriate formalwear.

He'd thought it was ready. He'd thought it was ready, but... during Richard's keynote, he found a _massive_ security flaw in the build. A blatant one. Really, that sort of thing should be within Gilfoyle's domain, but Gilfoyle would never own up to it. He'd go balls-deep into the system files to tamper out any evidence that could be plausibly tied to a suspicion of a mistake on his part. Not that it matters. It's not Gilfoyle's responsibility, ultimately. Richard should have caught it. It's his company, his product, it was his presentation, his _pride_.

He'd managed to babble out the specs of his tech which were arranged in the slideshow after he got through the disaster of the live demonstration, and silently thanked god or whatever that there wasn't a Q&A section after that as he left the podium.

Now, he was out by the side of the building. A big cable, thick with insulation, ran along the grass and up the side of the brick wall. It looked like this was where the convention center employees park. Anyway, it didn't look like it got a lot of traffic, so it suited his needs. If he were to wrap his arms around his legs, no one would see him do it. If he... if he started crying out here... no one would see that either. He could just... sit and ruminate. Kindle his thinking with more thinking, more self-deprecation.

He'd have thrown up his hood, if he had one to wear, but instead he was in a fucking tailored suit.

Jared found him, sitting in a little alcove carved out by beams. Of course he did. He didn't answer when Jared addressed him. He didn't want Jared's motherly concern, his conscientious caretaking. He wanted to mope, he wanted to stew in angst, he wanted to wallow in his humiliation.

Jared sat on his haunches, coming down to Richard's level to talk with him.

"I know you're feeling upset, but Richard, you have to give yourself the grace to --"

"Don't. Just... don't. Don't give me that, Jared. I fucked up. I know I fucked up. I know feelings of guilt don't always come from a place of rationality or reasoning, but sometimes... sometimes something really is your own fault."

He wanted Jared to acknowledge that he did wrong. He wanted his shame to be validated. How could he make Jared get it? How could he let Jared follow his line of fucked-up logic?

He... he thought of a way. It would be... not nice. It would be manipulative, downright shitty, to make Jared tap into that that darkness, to make him wield it, but it wasn't like that was any new revelation about the kind of person Richard is.

"Jared... were you ever offered a lesson... "the easy way or the hard way"? I... I want the," he swallowed, offered one quick glance up before moving his gaze back downward, "Give it to me the hard way."

"I... think I understand, Richard," Jared said after a moment, as soft-spoken as ever. He reached out to wipe away a tear from Richard's face, but when he met his eyes again, something in them had changed. There was an added, cruel edge to his voice when he went on, "I'll give you something to cry about."

With that threat, Jared rose up, tall and straight, and Richard truly felt like degenerate filth under that contemptuous stare. He felt _relieved_.

"Show me that tongue."

Richard did, poking it out just past his lip and keeping his eyes open. Not looking into Jared's face, now, but with eyes at crotch-level. Jared ran his finger across his tongue, then grabbed it together with his thumb and pulled. With two fingers, he stroked it several times from back to front.

"That's right, just like that. That's a pretty mouth, boy."

Jared drew back to unbutton his jacket, and maneuvered around his cummerbund to open his pants. He was at a half-chub, and it lightly slapped against Richard's face as he worked back inside. Jared's leg got between his, and his dress shoe pressed against the front of Richard's pants.

"Fucking little cockslut. _Pervers Dreck_. I ought to make you beg for it."

Not like he _could_ with Jared fondling his tongue like this, but that kind of logic really had no place here. Just the thought of it, being called names, being made to beg, put Richard in the right headspace.

Jared's hand moved further inside, reaching in the dark. His palm turned upward, and his fingers were triggering the nerves of Richard's soft palate. He opened his fingers wide and gathered Richard's saliva from inside his mouth, spreading it over his cock before he slid in.

He moved a hand up Richard's forehead and grabbed him by the hair, using it to rock his head while Jared stayed still. Even though it was rough treatment, Richard could still breathe this way, and could put some performance into the blowjob with suction and strokes of his tongue.

He felt Jared reach full hardness in his mouth, and then Jared was stepping forward, crowding him in against the wall. He was going for the throat, now, and it set off Richard's gag reflex.

"That's it, choke on this cock. Does it hurt? Are you sad?" His prosody had a teasing, lyrical lilt to it, musical in a way that had once been forbidden to him by a foster family, Richard recalled from his catalog of dreadful Jared facts.

Even though Richard was gagging horribly, with water oozing from his eyes, he reached out to touch Jared, caressed up his thigh and snaked both hands around his legs and up to his lower back.

He could feel it, as Jared fucked him, rising in his throat, along with the familiar panic that he should find somewhere better suited for this. A plant, or a toilet.

It was coming up. It was coming up, and he couldn't escape, he was trapped with his head and shoulders to the wall. He threw up on Jared's cock. It overflowed out the sides of his mouth. It stained his clothes, not the usual runny brownish, but dyed red from the wine. Oh god, he'd have to take his suit to the dry cleaners. He'd rather fucking burn it.

Jared moved his fingers up Richard's chin then across his mouth, then he ran them, messy, through Richard's curls. The way Richard was crying now, it was his body's natural response to the physical assault, it was the guilt and shame of the mistake he'd made, it was the disgrace of becoming covered with puke, all at once.

And Jared was still throating him the whole time. It made Richard's head pound against the wall. He came inside Richard's mouth, and when he swallowed it down it was mixed with the taste of his sickness.

When Jared's body recovered from the wracks of his orgasm, he lowered himself back down, and his gaze had its usual softness.

"Come on, let's get you home."

Richard nodded and let himself be hoisted up, and Jared fixed up their clothes as best he could. They went around the back way, regardless.

On the ride back to the hostel in Jared's Volt, Richard was quiet. He could smell his sickness, drying out and crusting, and he knew Jared could too. Even after everything, it was still fucking _embarrassing_.

Jared walked him to the door and into the house. They'd showered together as part of their aftercare, before, but this time Richard did so alone. He took extra time to thoroughly wash his face and hair.

He'd gotten hard outside, though it had gone down during the drive. But now he was getting aroused again. Lines of causality feeding into each other, a tangled web of firing neurons, a for loop without an exit condition. He took himself in hand, hot with humiliation. He's so fucked up. He's so fucked up. He's so fucked up. His cum and vomit and the water flowed together down the drain.

When he came out of the bathroom, Jared was still there for him. Even through it all.

Replete with catharsis, Richard knew just how to fix that security issue. He could get back to his algorithm, now, his blocks of code in degrees of indentation, the usual patterns of crises and problem-solving that are somehow keeping Pied Piper afloat.


End file.
